Young Sherlock
by Gemma.Holmes
Summary: Sherlock has not always been the highly-functioning sociopath we all know and love. How did he become the consulting detective who lives at 221B? What adventures led him to his world of crime, mystery, and genius? (First fan-fic ever, bad at summaries. Rated T because I'm paranoid)
1. Chapter 1

**Hello. This is the first fan-fic I have ever written so please be kind. I wrote it last summer and was too nervous to post it, but on the spur of the moment, I decided to now. :) I hope you all enjoy it. I appreciate suggestions and comments. I know in the first few chapters, Mycroft is a little OOC, but bear with me, he wasn't always the way he is now. I will try to update as often as I can. Thank you and enjoy! **

**(I do not, sadly, own Sherlock or any of the characters ****associated****with the show/books. However, i do own the plot and a few characters such as Callum, and Renferd.)**

**Chapter 1; Sherlock **

The day is January 6th, 1987, the time; 4:28am. A light flurry of snow covers the frosted outskirts of a small village by the name of Rye, one of the sub villages of London. No whistling wind can be heard in Rye on this particular night, allowing the light snow to blanket the trees in a picturesque manor. The sky appears particularly ominous for no moon can be seen tonight due to the pale overcast. The only light that can be seen is a faint, warm glow being emitted from the largest manor in Rye; a vast, royal blue palace with five stories of spacious rooms. Inside, a seven year old Mycroft Holmes lies curled upon the smooth, cedar windowsill of the tall, arced window in the entry hall of _Holmes Manor. _On any ordinary night, Annie, Mycroft's plump, 29 year old maid, would have whisked young Master Holmes off to bed long ago. But this winter night had no normal element about it. Earlier that night, roughly around 9pm, Violet Holmes awoke gasping and sweating. This had been expected for some time due to the fact that she was nine months and four days pregnant. Immediately, Martin, the families head butler, and Callum, their chauffer, had hurried Violet and Renfred Holmes to St. Mary's maternity ward, the highest regarded birthing center in the London area. Young Mycroft had desperately wanted to go with his parents, but his pleas went unanswered and he was left in the care of Annie. She had done her best to keep Mycroft occupied and feeling like he was doing his part in the final preparations for the arrival of his new brother or sister, but he was not amused by his being left out of the "main event" as he had put it. But he went along with Annie's simple tasks anyway, to occupy his mind and hands for the long hours that were to come. They had made up the baby's crib and Mycroft had neatly set his favorite old toy from when he was younger upon the sky blue pillow. The family had decided to let the baby's gender remain a surprise, and this was what Mycroft was most anxious about. He had imagined countless scenarios for either outcome, a little sister or brother. Regardless of the result, he knew he would teach the baby all he had to share, which was a lot, since Mycroft was already taking freshman algebra. With these thought s in mind, Mycroft went about his chores. Eventually, they had run out of simple tasks to do and Annie had suggested they both get some rest. "Your mother and father will be away for a while longer young master Mycroft. It has only been two hours; the process of having a child takes at minimum 7 or 8 hours under normal circumstances," She had explained to him, but Mycroft was under no circumstance willing to sleep. He had told her to go ahead and that he would wait up for them in the entry hall. Annie had sighed and agreed, but insisted he relax and make himself comfortable. He sprawled out on the window sill and graciously accepted the down blanket and warm milk she had brought him. "Annie?" Young Mycroft had asked. "Yes dear," his nanny replied softly. "Do you hope the baby will be a boy or a girl?" He absentmindedly asked as he stared out the window at the falling snow. "I hope the baby is happy and healthy, I do not care its gender. Do you have a preference?" She responded, much to Mycroft's dismay. Mycroft didn't answer her for a long time. He contemplated his answer carefully, for he didn't want her to think he would be disappointed if the baby turned out to be the opposite gender of his wishes, he was quite content with whichever gender the baby ended up being. Finally, he answered, "I want to have a little sibling that will know I will always be there for and I will be able to teach things to. I want it to have a long happy life and be a great playmate to me. I want whichever gender can do that better." Annie smiled at his carefully crafted answer, for she knew he secretly had a preference, but she didn't push him. With that, Annie retired to her room with a goodnight to her young master. Mycroft had waited patiently for about two more hours until his eyelids began to droop. He was determined to stay awake to meet the baby when it eventually did come home, but the lulling of the snow and warm milk eventually got the better of him and he fell into a light sleep filled with dreams of the future he would have with his new sibling. Mycroft had stayed asleep until the soft crunching of car tires on the gravel driveway could be heard outside. His eyes shot open to see the approach of blazing car lights of the black Mercedes. Instantly, Mycroft sprang up and ran to the door. "Annie wake up! Mummy and father are back!" He called up to his nursemaid. Annie came rushing down the left-hand side of the grand staircase in a long blue bathrobe. She looked quite startled, yet excited at the same time. Mycroft thought he was going to burst as he watched Callum open the back door for Father and Mummy to exit. His father emerged first, followed by an exhausted looking Violet Holmes holding a small bundle. Martin followed carrying the tiny car seat. Their walk to the front door took ages in young Mycroft's mind. His mother was quite weak and his father and Martin had to assist her every step of the way. When finally they did reach the door, Mycroft was literally bouncing. He beat Callum to the door and threw it open, letting it sway a bit on its well-oiled hinges. Mycroft, trying immensely hard to contain his excitement, hurried over to his parents. "Hello Mycroft, you're still awake. We assumed you'd be sound asleep at this late hour." His father put an arm around his now elder child. "Oh no father, I had to wait up for you mother and… and…" He couldn't finish the sentence as he caught a glimpse of a tiny hand reach out from the bundle in his mother's arms. "And your new little brother." His mother smiled down at him. Mycroft practically fainted. He had a brother. His own baby brother. Hesitantly, he asked his mother the question that had been on so anxious to ask for nine months and five days. "May, may I hold him?" He asked hopefully. "Well of course. After all he is your brother." His mother replied. She slowly lowered the bundle into Mycroft's small hands. He was particularly carful to mind his head for he had a suspicion that his baby brother's mind would be capable of great things one day. When he firmly had his brother in his hand, he peered into his dark blue eyes and instantly fell in love with him. He knew he's protecting him for the rest of his life no matter what. "What is his name?" He asked no one in particular, without averting his gaze from his baby brother's face. "His name is Sherlock dear." His mother replied. Sherlock. Mycroft smiled. Mycroft thought it was perfect. His father gently took the bundle back from Mycroft. "You can see Sherlock more in the morning, but for now, we all need to get some rest." Mycroft sadly understood. He slowly climbed the grand staircase and lay down in his bead, without the picture of Sherlock ever leaving his head. He lay there for an hour, not able to fall asleep, until he finally gave in to temptation jumped out of bead. Slowly, he snuck down the long, dark hallway to the nursery and cracked the mahogany door just enough for his small form the fit through. There, with only the light of the pale snow outside, did he peer upon his sleeping brother's face. And at that moment he knew, he got exactly what he had wished for.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2; First Birthday **

Mycroft woke up to the sound of a crying Sherlock for the fourth time that night. It had been eleven months, three weeks, and six days since his parents had brought home Sherlock for the first time. In that year, it had become apparent that little Sherlock was very advanced.

He had already begun walking and talking some, and seemed to have an interest in everything that he could see, smell, hear, or tough. Much to Mycroft's glee, Sherlock's first word had been some babbled version of his name. It sounded something like _my-cwost, _but it still brought joy to the young geniuses' heart. Since then, Sherlock had taken to the habit of calling his older brother "My", which detested Mycroft greatly. He loathed nicknames, and attempted to correct Sherlock whenever possible. So far, his corrections have had no effect and Sherlock insists on keeping "My" around a while longer.

So here "My" was, attempting franticly to calm a frightened Sherlock on the morning of his first birthday. Mycroft's room was closer to Sherlock's nursery that his parent's, so Mycroft had been woken by Sherlock's desperate howls before his Mum and Father. He had hurried into the nursery and lulled him back to sleep as to avoid his parents being awoken.

They received little sleep as it was for his Mother was often up extremely late calculation very complex equations in her whiteboard filled study. She was a Nobel Prize recipient in Math and a world renounced mathematic genius. Their mother's genius was the main factor of why Sherlock and Mycroft had turned out to be so advanced; they had inherited the gene of genius. But apparently, even baby geniuses cried all hours of the night.

Although, Mycroft did have a trick to hush his baby brother back to sleep. He would recite the periodic table to him and Sherlock would simply stare into his brother's eyes with fascination at each element spoken. He appeared to be contemplating each one as if he were some great chemist. Around the twenty-fifth element or so, Sherlock's soft, pink eyelids would eventually begin to flutter and close. Then, Mycroft would happily lie down next to the crib and listen to the soft breaths of Sherlock as he happily slept.

He was not sleeping now though, he was back to reciting the periodic table for young Sherlock. "Okay Sherlock, one last time for your birthday. Hydrogen, Helium, Lithium, Beryllium, Boron, Carbon, Nitrogen, Oxygen," Sherlock's wails started to subside, "Fluorine, Neon, Sodium, Magnesium, Aluminum, Silicon, Phosphorous, Sulfur, Chlorine, Argon, Potassium, Calcium, Scandium," Sherlock's eyes slowly shut and his breathing began to become deep and regular. "There my dear brother. How's that?" Mycroft asked, knowing no one would answer. Mycroft was satisfied that little Sherlock would sleep soundly until morning now, so he decided it was time for him to go back to his own bead.

He crept down the hall and tucked himself soundly into bead. The young genius glanced at the clock. 3:17, not too bad. Sherlock was beginning to sleep for longer intervals. Mycroft lay in his bed, contemplating his most recent Trigonometry assignment, when he heard his 7am alarm go off. Beethoven's ninth symphony rang soothingly in the young geniuses' ears. Mycroft did wish he had managed to get some rest, but he had been learning the more he advanced in his studies, the harder it was to shut his brain off and sleep. There was so much the world they lived in had to offer, if Mycroft wanted to learn as much as he could, his sleeping schedule would have to be cut down to a minimum.

Mycroft thought this all through as he gracefully swung his legs out of bed and got dressed in a sharp looking, navy blue vest and dress pant. Today was a special occasion, it was Sherlock's first birthday and Mycroft intended to make his little brother's first birthday a memorable one. He exited his room and made his way downstairs to the smell of warm sausage and scrambled eggs with a side bacon and tomatoes; a very traditional English breakfast.

His parents were already seated at their long, mahogany dining table. His father had a copy of the _London Evening Standard _newspaper open and was contently reading through the major news events while sipping his freshly brewed black coffee with no sugar. His mother was tending to Sherlock's birthday decorations on the wall, her plate already cleaned. On the opposite side of the table, Mycroft's seating was made up for his and his food was still warm, evident from the visible steam rising from his plate. A glass of orange juice had been poured for his as well.

Next to his spot, a hand carved baby seat sat empty with a plastic plate of "gourmet" baby food and small slices of various tropical fruits. Sherlock must still be asleep, Mycroft thought. This wasn't surprising, due to the fact that he had been awake all hours of the night thanks to his frequent night terrors. "Ah Mycroft, how nice of you to join us," His mother smiled at her elder son and motioned for him to begin his breakfast. "You look my tiered son. Did you not sleep well?" His father asked him over his spectacles, folding his paper and placing it neatly next to his halfway-eaten platter of food. Mycroft glanced up at his father. He had no troubled lying to his parents, he was quite good at it in fact, but if he told them that he slept all throughout the night, they would assume he wasn't getting enough sleep and would change his "bedtime" to earlier in the night. "Oh I had some trouble falling asleep. I was contemplating string theory and was too fascinated to engage in such a trivial matter as sleeping," Mycroft skillfully replied. He had not lied entirely, he had been thinking of string theory before he heard the first cries of young Sherlock, and it had fascinated him greatly. He had also avoided getting his nursemaid, Annie in trouble. It was her responsibility to look after both Sherlock and Mycroft's needs, yet she had been under a lot of stress lately for she herself was expecting a baby in roughly 7 months.

"Mycroft dear, I know you're brain has great capacities, but that does not mean you can deprive yourself of the basic needs your body requires as well," his mother gently scolded her little genius. Mycroft acted understanding and promised his mother that he would attempt to sleep at least eight hours a night.

Their conversation was interrupted by the sound of soft babbles coming from the main foyer. "The birthday boy's finally awake," Annie smiled as she passed Sherlock over to Violet who affectionately kissed the top of his head. His hair had grown considerably in his first year and now had a small mop of dark brown curls to account for.

"I think we should do presents early this year," Renfred clapped his hands in excitement with a large smile on his face. Dr. Holmes often felt like the moron of the family for he was the only one who had not shown aptitude to being a genius. But in truth, he was a very intelligent man with a PhD. from Oxford in economics and banking. To make up for his lack of textbook genius, he often took it upon himself to interject in conversations as much as possible, as he was doing now. "That's a lovely idea Ren, our baby boy deserves something special on his first birthday," Mycroft's mother exclaimed as she hurried into the family room with Annie at her heels.

They emerged carrying an assortment of brightly collared wrapped gifts which they placed in front Sherlock. Violet, who also happened to be Dr. Holmes, called out to Callum, Martin, Aaron, their sweet maid who was studying at Cambridge(she was very attached to Sherlock in particular), and Archie, their young cook. The little family, along with their servants, gathered around Sherlock and begun to sing him "happy birthday." Archie quickly dashed into the kitchen and emerged again carrying a round, chocolate birthday cake with the words _happy 1__st__ birthday Sherlock _written in cursive on top. The candle appeared to dance in young Mycroft's eyes as they placed the cake in front of his baby brother.

Sherlock appeared fascinated by the candled and stared at it intently with inelegant eyes until his mother bent down and blew it out, much to Sherlock's dismay. Everyone clapped as Martin began cutting slices of the cake and setting them on small ceramic plates Violet had given him. Mycroft ate his piece in satisfaction, for he wasn't allowed to have sweets all that often. His mother then proceeded to select a gift off the enormous pile and begin reading the card aloud.

"Happy birthday to our newest grandson. We can't wait to see you again this summer. Love; Grandmother and Grandfather," Violet then began unwrapping the light purple parcel to reveal a small jumper with the symbols "√-1 23 Σ π _and it was delicious" _written on it. "How nice!" Violet exclaimed. "Mickey, you're next!" Mycroft's mother motioned for her elder son to present Sherlock with the square shaped present he had bout Sherlock. '"Here you go brother mine," Mycroft placed the present in front of Sherlock, who simply stared. His mother then unwrapped it herself. "Oh it's a book on the elements! How nice Mycroft! You do know he won't be able to read it for a while though," his mother smiled. "Oh I intended to teach him before the year is up," Mycroft declared, for secretly, he had already begun teaching his genius baby brother. Just as he had promised the one year ago on the day of his birth.


End file.
